


Riposte

by bangyababy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bottom Steve Rogers, Canonical Character Death, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fencing, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Russian-American Bucky Barnes, Tokyo 2020 Summer Olympics, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 19:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/pseuds/bangyababy
Summary: Steve and Bucky are fencers and best friends, and Steve might be a little in love with Bucky. Their dream has been to make it to the Olympics together. After failing to make the 2016 team and still dealing with the loss of his mother right after, Steve is resolute that they are going to make the 2020 team. After the last qualifying match, and an almost confession, Bucky unexpectedly takes a spot on Team Russia, leaving Steve on Team USA to train halfway across the world with little explanation. Steve is hurt and confused but determined to do well at the Olympics and get to the bottom of what’s going on with Bucky.





	Riposte

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to our contribution to the the 2019 Cap Big Bang!  
Some thank yous are in order: to NachoDiablo, for always listening to me whine, to pooslie, for the fantastic beta, to the mods for putting this on, and of course to Emmatheslayer for the wonderful art! 
> 
> Some notes about this fic:  
1\. I don't know all that much about fencing or the Olympics but I tried.  
2\. I apparently had some things I needed to say about Japan in this fic, lol. But for anyone concerned, the things Sam says about Japan mostly reflect my own experiences as a black person who lived in Japan as well as other black people I know who have spent time there. Japan holds a special place in my heart and I love the country and the people, but that won't stop me from criticizing potentially harmful aspects of the culture.  
3\. Riposte means retort in French and in fencing it means n offensive action with the intent of hitting one's opponent, made by the fencer who has just parried an attack.

Seven AM dawned bright and crisp and Steve could tell from the warm shade of blue of the sky that Spring was truly here. He sighed as he hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and kept walking towards the subway. There weren’t many days that Steve didn’t feel like going to practice, but today was one of them. He’d rather sit in the park and drink some hipster flower flavored concoction, sketching the day away with Bucky reading a book by his side. 

But there was no way he could miss practice, not with the cut off for Olympic qualifications just around the corner. At least he knew Bucky was in the same boat and they could share in the misery of being locked up inside on such a beautiful day together, even if they were half a borough away from each other. 

Steve headed down into the subway and struggled with his gear bag for a few seconds before he got through the gate, then began to idly scroll through his phone while he waited for his train. He flicked through his Instagram and sent Bucky a snap of his unhappy face that was mainly ceiling. He was clicking back onto Instagram when an MTA worker approached him. 

“What’s that in the bag?” the guy demanded. 

“A foil,” Steve said without looking up. 

“You know you can’t bring—” 

“It’s not sharp,” Steve cut him off, finally looking up. “It’s for fencing.” 

The guy snorted and gave Steve a pointed once over. “Right, kid, you think I’m supposed to believe that?” 

Steve scowled, crossing his arms. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It means you’re a little on the small side for fencing, ain’t ya?” 

“And what in the fuck would you know about it, buddy?” Steve snapped. “Your dick’s a little on the small side for you to be trying to fuck me like this.” 

“All right, Jesus,” said the worker, muffled by the sound of the train approaching in the distance.

“Have a nice day,” Steve said, turning back to his phone. He heard the guy grumble and walk away just as the train stopped in front of him. Steve stepped on, turned around and saw the worker still glaring at him, so he grinned and flipped him the bird as the doors closed and the train rolled out of sight before turning and flopping down on an empty seat near the doors, shrugging his gear to the floor in the space between his legs. 

Steve knew he didn’t look athletic, let alone like someone who did  _ fence _ , even when he was in his full kit. At five foot five, he was short enough to regularly be herded into the children’s side of competitions. But height in fencing wasn’t  _ as _ important as it was with other sports. In some cases, Steve was able to use his stature as an advantage, but really what it came down to was hard work and dedication, and Steve had that in spades. 

Truthfully fencing hadn’t been something even Steve thought he could do. Growing up as sick as he was and as small as he was practically every sport besides chess, if that was being counted, was off the table. Of course Bucky had always played sports and Steve had always been jealous, but he went to whatever game or competition Bucky was playing in that he could and cheered him on. 

Then when they were twelve Bucky had taken up Tae Kwon Do at the community center. After the ceremony for his yellow belt, Steve had seen a flier for fencing classes and grabbed it on a whim. 

He didn’t tell anyone about it. Instead, he went back down to the community center the next day and watched the fencing class through the windows, thoroughly entranced. When the class was over Steve tried to leave before anyone saw him, but the coach came out, a small man who had kind eyes behind his glasses and smiled at him. 

“What do you think?” the coach had asked. 

“It was pretty cool,” Steve conceded. 

“Would you like to join us next time?” 

Steve looked back at the kids packing up their gear, they were all taller and healthier and richer than he was. “I don’t think I can.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m too small and I get sick a lot. I can’t run for a long time. And my mom doesn’t have a lot of money,” Steve admitted. 

The coach had just smiled at him. “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t need to be tall or run for fencing. Why don’t you come by next class and try it for free? We can worry about money later if you’re serious.”

Steve had looked back up at the man and asked, “Why?”

The coach had shrugged and said, “You seem like a good kid.” 

So Steve had taken the coach up on the offer. It turned out the coach, Abraham Erskine, was right. Steve didn’t need to be tall to fence, and the running was kept to a minimum. He  _ loved _ it and as soon as Erskine saw Steve fence he knew he was onto something great. Somehow the money was worked out and, naturally, Bucky had joined in along the way and the rest was history. Unfortunately, Erskine had died when Steve was in high school and his mother a few years after that. 

Steve regretted every day that neither of them had lived to see Steve make it the Olympics. 

The train screeched to a halt at Steve’s stop and he shook his head to clear it of the memories. He had to be on his A-game today, as he was already running late and his coach, Maria Hill, was not known for her leniency. 

True to form she barked, “You’re late,” as soon as Steve walked in. 

He sighed and set his gear down onto the table before he turned to face her. “Sorry, Coach.” 

“10 laps.” She jerked her chin towards the outer walls of the gym. She added, “In your kit,” before Steve could take off without it. 

He tried not to groan as he got out the pieces of his kit and pulled them on with mechanical precision. Maria went pretty easy on him with the cardio, even though as he’d gotten older his asthma had improved. Still, he wasn’t the best runner, but he kept up well enough. 

Carol was already running laps when Steve joined her. She immediately slowed down so the could jog together. 

“How many did she give you?” 

“10, you?” 

“25.” Carol rolled her eyes. 

“Damn, what’d you do?” 

Carol opened her mouth to reply but Maria shouted, “If you’ve got breath to talk, you’ve got breath to run faster!” 

Carol and Steve shared a look and he nodded his okay for her to pull ahead. Steve liked Carol. They had both been training under Maria for the past three years, and she was a fierce opponent, and a good friend. But because of their basically matched heights, it didn’t allow for a variety of training. While it was true that being small didn’t mean you couldn’t fence, a lot of fencers, especially male fencers, were well over six feet. So, Steve and Carol regularly trained with another coach’s team to cover the gap. Sometimes they got invited to train with Bucky and his coach at the Manhattan center, but not often. Maria and Alexander Pierce, Bucky’s coach, didn’t get along well. 

After they finished their laps, Maria put them through their paces for another hour before letting them spar. After the first round, which Carol won, they were allowed to break for twenty minutes and then another round of paces and two matches (Steve one, and Carol her second) before they were allowed to be released. 

“So what was up with her today?” Steve complained as he and Carol waited for the train. 

“I might have said something I shouldn’t have,” Carol admitted. 

Steve glanced at her. “Like what?”

“That she and Fury are fucking?” 

“Carol!” Steve gasped. “What the fuck! He’s like old enough to be her dad.” 

“Or daddy,” Carol replied with a smirk and Steve made a face as they got into the car.

“That was awful and I hate you.” 

“No you don’t and also do you want to go out tonight?” Carol sat down and Steve followed suit, tucking his gear between his legs.

“Me and Buck kinda already got plans,” Steve told her apologetically. 

Carol rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Of course you do. Gonna be old people and watch HGTV and eat frozen dinners.” 

“Yup,” Steve said popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “Except it’s SVU and he’s making pelmeni. You’re welcome to come over if you want.”

“Nah, wouldn’t want to interrupt date night,” she winked at him.

“It’s  _ not _ a date. We’re just hanging out.”

“Okay, well you two hang out like you’ve been married for fifty years.” 

“What’s wrong with watching TV and eating dinner with your best friend?” 

“Nothing,” Carol conceded. “Unless you happen to be secretly in love with that best friend and they return your feelings but you’re both too dumb and stubborn to admit it so instead you act like a couple without ever being emotionally or sexually satisfied.” 

“Jesus, Carol,” Steve snorted, “no wonder Hill was so pissed today.” 

“I’m just telling you the truth,” Carol insisted. 

“First of all, you don’t need to have sex to have a fulfilling relationship.” 

“You’re right, but last I checked neither of you are asexual and you regularly complain about not getting enough dick.”

“Carol,” Steve hissed, flicking his eyes to the people around them.

But she waved him off and continued, “And Bucky goes home with someone pretty much any night we go out. So don’t try and tell me you don’t need sex to have a fulfilling relationship.” 

“Okay, fine, point. But there you are, Bucky obviously isn’t interested in me or he wouldn’t go home with all those people.”

“Now you’re being obtuse.”

“How?” 

“Obviously he doesn’t think he has a chance with you and rather than jeopardizing your friendship he’s keeping to himself,” she paused. “And can I just say it’s really telling how you have not once denied having feelings for him?”

Carol sighed when she saw the miserable look on Steve’s face. “Hey, I get it. It’s scary, but Steve I promise you Bucky feels the exact same thing for you as you do for him. He’d do anything for you and you two would be so much happier if one of you could just admit that.”

“Say you’re wrong, though, say Bucky really does only love me like a brother, then what? I’ll have ruined  _ everything _ and Bucky—” Steve choked on the next words a little. “Bucky’s all that I have.” 

Carol softened. “Oh, Steve.” 

Steve blinked back the sudden onslaught of tears and Carol rubbed his back while he composed himself. His mother had been gone for almost three years, but some days he still expected her to be there when he got home. To be able to pick up the phone and call her when something funny happened at school or practice that he thought he would like. Sometimes the depth of his loss would hit him like a train derailing and other times it crept up on him. An out of place mug here, an old sock there. He was trying to move on with his life, like she would have wanted, but some days Bucky was the only thing holding him up. 

“I know it’s not the same,” Carol said when Steve had calmed down, her voice soft and soothing. “But I just want you to know that you’ve got me, too. And Sam. And Wanda. And we love you. Promise.” 

“Thanks, Carol,” Steve said. “I love you guys, too.” 

They came to Carol’s stop and she stood up. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Bucky’s the type of guy to let that ruin your friendship, even  _ if _ he didn’t feel the same way.” She didn’t wait for his reply and Steve didn’t give her one, but he turned around and waved as the train pulled out. 

When he turned around and an older woman was looking at him critically. “She’s right you know,” the woman said. “You keep something like that inside it eats you up. Love is supposed to be let out. So let it out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve told her before shoving in his headphones. Sometimes he hated New York. 

—

Steve was sitting on Bucky’s couch with Bucky’s head in his lap as he massaged away an impending headache from the stress of the day. From the outside, Steve could see why Carol and a lot of people had the idea that they had, but Steve knew it was just how he and Bucky were. They’d been friends since before they could even remember and seen every single version of each other. They were  _ comfortable.  _ The world would be a lot better place everyone could have a friendship like his and Bucky’s, Steve thought privately. 

Steve continued to massage as Bucky vented about his day. Pierce had apparently been in a mood today and he’d made Bucky and Brock practice with the non-regulation foils, meaning ones that could actually do damage. Steve always thought Bucky should bring that up with someone, but Bucky had admitted the added danger of actually being stabbed did help their training. It wasn’t like they weren’t wearing protective gear, the point was usually pretty dull, he reasoned.

“So what are we doing tonight? Classic Stabler and Benson, Benson and Amaro, or Lieutenant Benson?” Bucky asked after they had both bitched about their training sessions. 

“I’m feeling some Livelliot, what about you?”

“Took the words from my mouth,” Bucky shifted, picking himself up and pulling Steve’s hand out his hair. Steve felt an immediate loss but pushed it aside as Bucky turned to him. “Wanna help me in the kitchen?” 

“Nah, think I’ll just sit here and look pretty,” Steve grinned and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“For that you’d actually have to be pretty.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you’re offering.” Steve kicked him in the shoulder and he bent over with an  _ oof _ . “You asshole.” 

“Don’t be fucking rude,” Steve grumped. 

“Alright, Stevie, yeesh. You’re the prettiest in all the land.” 

Steve preened, “Thank you.” 

“But seriously, come help me.” 

Steve groaned but got up and followed Bucky to the kitchen.

“Okay,” Bucky began, pulling the things they would need out for the pelmeni. “This is my great-great-great—”

“Great-great babushka’s recipe so don’t tell anyone or her spirit will haunt you until you die,” Steve finished. “Yeah, I know. What I don’t know why you’re teaching me these recipes. Shouldn’t this be something you tell your wife or husband or partner or whatever when you get married?” 

Bucky faltered for a second and shook his head as he opened the flour. “Nope. Can’t trust them. People get divorced, Stevie, but you and me? We’re forever.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks, a mirror of the warmth that filled his belly at the sentiment. 

Bucky set to work on getting the dough together looking steadfastly at the ingredients in front of him and put on what Steve referred to as his “YouTube Baker Lady” voice. “So, anyway, these are actually kind of a pain the ass to make, so you have to make sure you have a good stand mixer. What I like about the Kitchen-Aid is—”

“You don’t have to sell me on the damn Kitchen-Aid.” 

“—is that they never quit. My baba’s had the same once since—”

“—her wedding in 1958.” Bucky glared at Steve and Steve snorted. “Buck, you tell me this  _ every single time _ you teach me how to make something. Same cast iron since 1958, came knives since 1958, same mixer same rolling pin, same—”

“All right, I get it!” Bucky huffed, jamming the whisk attachment into the mixer, “I’m just trying to set the scene. Food is a journey and I’m just trying to tell its story.” 

Steve stifled a laugh at how out of sorts Bucky was getting. “All right, I’m sorry. Tell me the story.”

“Well, now I don’t want to,” he grumbled, measuring out the buttermilk.

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and pulled him so they were face to face, “Buck, truly, I’m sorry. Please tell me the story.” 

Bucky stared at him considering for a moment before he shrugged out of Steve’s grasp. “Asshole.” 

Steve couldn’t contain his laughter and scrambled to hang on to Bucky. “No, really, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just think it’s cute how into this you get. I’ll behave, promise.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid I won’t make the pelmeni and then you’ll have to eat cup ramen instead.” He slopped the sour cream into the bowl. “It’s fine if you don’t want to learn. I’ll still make them.

Steve sobered up and tugged on Bucky’s arm again. “Hey, no. I want to learn.”

Bucky glanced at him. “You don’t have to humor me, Steve.” 

“Listen, Buck. I do think your Baker YouTube Lady voice is ridiculous, but it’s also really cute and it’s nice how much you care about keeping your family traditions alive. Sometimes I wish—” the words caught in his throat and Bucky stilled, but Steve plowed on, changing directions, “I’m happy that you want to include me in those traditions.” 

“Of course,” Bucky said softly. “We’re forever, remember?” 

“Till the end of the line,” Steve replied dutifully. 

Bucky repeated the sentiment then turned back to the counter. “So, first you’re gonna take 2/3 cup of buttermilk, a tablespoon of sour cream, two cups of  _ warm  _ water, and it’s important that it’s warm, not hot, not cold, warm. The reason is…”

Steve listened, watched, and imitated as requested while Bucky worked through the recipe. As they cooked, he tried to shake off the melancholy that had threatened to overtake him earlier. Maybe it was because of the conversation he’d had with Carol, or maybe it was because he was just feeling particularly sensitive about his mom recently, but as he watched Bucky work—so much in his element, fluid and graceful just like he was in the ring, he couldn’t stop thinking about admitting his feelings. 

Would it be so bad if he told Bucky? If Carol was right, and Bucky did return his feelings, they could have this every day. He could lean over and kiss Bucky right on his flour streaked cheek, the result of Steve lobbing some at him for some smart remark or another. It was painfully domestic and wonderful and just as emotionally unsatisfying as Carol had accused him of earlier. 

But then if Bucky didn’t love him back? If all of this went away and Steve was left alone? What if he ruined everything? 

He was still mulling it over long after he’d left Bucky’s place, full and tired and not quite content. He should be happy, he thought, it should be enough. 

But even as he fell asleep he knew it never would be.

—

On the morning of nationals, Steve woke up feeling the familiar pit of nervous excitement bubbling in his stomach. He grabbed his phone and texted Bucky that he was up and needed about 30 minutes before they could meet up. 

Up until their current coaches, Steve and Bucky had always shared a room when they had tournaments away. Fencing being as niche of a sport as it was, all styles tended to compete at the same time. None of their previous coaches had any problem with them sharing, but now that Bucky was with Pierce, he was forced to share with Brock Rumlow. All because Pierce wouldn’t have Bucky consorting with the enemy or some shit.

So now Steve roomed alone because his only other teammate was Carol and she stayed with Maria. It was stupid and made their mornings much harder. Bucky and Steve had developed a ritual of sorts before competitions, and even now they wouldn’t miss it. As much as Pierce hated Bucky meeting up with Steve, even he couldn’t deny the importance of a ritual. 

Steve got out of the shower and texted Bucky that he was good to go before heading down to the lobby to eat his competition breakfast—one banana, a bowl of oatmeal, and orange juice. When he entered the dining area, Bucky was already waiting for him, their breakfasts on the table.

“Hey, Buck, thanks,” Steve said sliding into the chair. 

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replied, picking up his spoon and starting to eat. 

Bucky complained for the hundredth time about having to room with Brock when it would be just as easy for him to stay with Steve and Steve listened and nodded in all the right places for the hundredth time.

“I mean, what does he think I’m gonna do? Give you lessons?” 

“The guy’s a hardass,” Steve agreed. “And Rumlow sucks.”

“I mean, he’s a good coach, I guess, but he’s such a shithead.” 

They chatted some more before Pierce came in and gave Bucky and Brock a look across the room. 

“I guess it’s time for me to go,” Bucky groaned, then turned to Steve. “Ready?” Steve nodded and Bucky started, “I’ve crossed the finish line, I’ve done everything that I’ve done.”

Steve picked up, “and now waiting for me is gold at the end of the line.”

“Till the end of the line?” 

“Till the end of the line.” 

They clapped each other on the shoulders and Bucky stood up. “I’ll see you out there.” 

“See ya, Buck.” 

They never told each other good luck, they didn’t need to—they’d done everything that they could have done. 

Steve cleared their breakfast dishes before heading over to Carol and Maria. 

“All set?” Maria asked. 

“Yup. Let’s go.” 

They gathered up their things and headed out to get into the van that would transport them to the arena. On the ride over Steve repeated to himself the words he and Bucky had spoken during their ritual and tried not to think about his mom. It was something she had said to Steve before his competitions and Bucky had overheard her. The first match after his mother had died, Bucky had tried to repeat the saying to him, but only remembered the first half, and Steve had filled in the rest. The end of the line bit was something that Bucky had ad-libbed, something he meant just for them, not to detract from what Steve and his mom had shared, and Steve appreciated the sentiment. 

Steve had won that first match and so had Bucky, so they kept it up, an unspoken agreement. 

Now, Steve was on his way to his last Olympic qualifier for 2020, and he wished more than anything that his mother was there with him. She had passed right after the 2016 qualifying match. Steve hadn’t made the team, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. 

Nothing did that year. 

Eventually he had picked his foil back up and found it welcomed him back like an old friend. He found Maria and Carol, and with them came Sam and Wanda. And he always had Bucky. 

His mother always told him he was going to make it to the Olympics one day. So did Erskine. As they entered the arena Steve said a little prayer to both of them, promising this time he’d make it. 

Steve went through the motions of checking in, Maria and Carol discussing some potential opponent for Carol from Boston. Steve tuned them out as he filled out his information and answered the check-in person’s questions. After being given his number, he gave Maria and Carol a sloppy salute before heading off to the men’s locker room. 

There were plenty of familiar faces in the locker room, and Steve spotted Bucky looking irritated in a corner with Rumlow and Pierce. He gave Bucky a small smile and Bucky returned it before turning his attention back to whatever Pierce was saying. 

“Hey, Rogers.” 

Steve looked up from shoving his bag into a locker to find Tony Stark. 

“Stark,” Steve greeted before turning back to his task. 

“It’s a shame you won’t be heading to the Olympics with us. Guess it’ll be up to me to lead Team America it victory. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep a really close lookout on your boy and make sure he’s not getting too handsy with tall, dark, and deadly, over there.” Tony nodded at a scowling Rumlow. 

Steve sighed. Sometimes he didn’t mind Tony Stark, other times he could at least tolerate him, but most of the time he couldn’t stand him. Not only was Tony a spoiled billionaire playboy brat, but seeing as Steve was closest in stature to him, he got it into his head they needed to have some sort of rivalry. Steve didn’t see it that way. “Stark, can you do me a favor and fuck off?” 

“Such language from Captain America?” Tony looked aghast. “I’ll have to write American Fencing and have them denounce your title.”

Steve pointedly rolled his eyes before stripping off his shirt. “Whatever, Iron Man,” he said referencing the same article American Fencing had written about potential team candidates back during the Rio Olympics, dubbing them all with ridiculous nicknames. 

Steve pointedly ignored Tony while he got his kit on, thankful when Tony’s handler, Happy, came and retrieved him without a word, Tony bitching the whole way. 

By the time Steve was ready, the locker room was mainly cleared out and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. 

Steve went out and found Maria, who was waiting for him with Carol. 

“You’re up 3rd, against Scott Lang, then 7th with Peter Parker—”

“The kid?” Steve asked, incredulous. Peter Parker was considered a fencing prodigy mainly due to the fact that he had an unnatural ability to anticipate attacks and Tony Stark had decided he liked the kid and had thrown money at him until he joined his fencing club. 

“He’s 16 now, so he’s a contender. Assuming you beat them both, you’ll likely face off against Stark or Odinson.” 

Steve sighed. He had been hoping Loki Odinson would have stuck to Epee. Odinson had flipped between the two styles for years, and he excelled at both, but Epee required a certain level of mind manipulation that Odinson seemed to enjoy. Foil, on the other hand, required more strategic planning. Odinson’s mental gymnastics often made his opponent second guess themselves and leave an opening for an attack. He was also an entire foot taller than Steve. 

“Carol’s up second, so we’re going to head next door. We’ll come over in time to see your first match.” 

Steve nodded and turned to Carol. They shared a brief hug and Steve said, “Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Carol pulled back and smirked at him. “I got nothin’ to prove.” 

They did a complicated handshake while Maria rolled her eyes in the background. Steve waved them off and went to sit down, shoving his headphones in as he went. He settled himself down on a bench and closed his eyes. Steve didn’t like to watch other matches before his own because he ended up overanalyzing everyone’s match and got too in his own head. If nothing else, he supposed, he’d make a great fencing coach one day. 

Steve’s mind wandered to Bucky in the next room. He thought about taking a peek in the arena but knew if Pierce or Rumlow spotted him Bucky’d be in for it. Pierce didn’t even like Bucky’s  _ family _ to come see him compete, because he thought they were too distracting. That usually didn’t stop them, but Bucky had asked that they didn’t come today because he didn’t want to deal with the extra added pressure. 

Steve’s eyes snapped open as someone loomed over him. Carol was grinning over him, sweaty and exuberant. Steve pulled out his earphones, “I take it you won.” 

“Fucking crushed it,” Carol said smugly. “Now get up, you’re up next.” 

Steve handed his phone to Carol and started adjusting his gear while Maria murmured last-minute reminders. 

“You got this!” Carol yelled as Steve stepped onto the piste. He moved pulled on his helmet and flexed his foil as he moved up to the en garde line and got into position. 

He took his place across from Lang and gave a small nod. When the referee shouted, “En garde!” Steve lept forward knowing that Lang would likely try move back, thinking that Steve might actually reach him, but Steve knew that he’d never make contact. Once Lang realized this, he’d be busy trying to scramble forward to attack Steve, who could then double back and catch Lang off guard. 

It went almost as if Steve had choreographed it. He landed the hit, and the rest of the match went by in a blur, Steve easily taking the win. 

“Good work out there, Cap,” Lang said, shaking his hand when it was all over. Steve had always liked Lang. He was an easygoing sort, if a little over excitable. “You’re going to be a great leader for Team USA.” 

Steve grinned. “Not there yet.” 

“You will be.” 

He went to watch Carol against some newbie from Colorado who she easily beat, and then went back to face off against Parker. Despite being a wunderkind, Parker was seemingly having an off day and Steve was able to trounce him well enough in the first few rounds before he had the wither all to put up any sort of decent defense in the last half. By then it was too late. 

Steve waited anxiously to see who he’d have to duel in the last quarter, wishing that he could spend this time with Bucky, but knowing it was impossible. It would be nice if he knew how Bucky was doing at the very least. Had he progressed the final rounds as well? Steve snorted to himself. Of course Bucky had. He had to have moved on.

Steve contemplated just going over to the sabre side of the arena, even if it meant both a reaming for Bucky and him after Pierce undoubtedly said something to Maria. Anything would be better than sitting here and waiting. If his mom had been here…but she wasn’t. 

He was just standing up, intent on going to see Bucky, chewing out or not when a crackle over the loudspeaker stopped him. 

“ _ Competitors, the results are in and these are the final rounds.”  _ Steve shut his eyes, barely breathing as they went through the names.

“ _ Steven G. Rogers and Loki Odinson. _ ” 

Relief and panic came over him in equal measure. He had survived the first rounds, but there was no telling how he’d do against Odinson. 

—

“We’re going to the Olympics!” Carol shouted for the third time that night. 

“You don’t know that!” Steve yelled back. 

He’d just barely scraped out a win against Odinson, and just because he’d won the matches didn’t mean they would be picked. There were so many other factors at play, like technique and technicalities. Besides, other people had won, too. It was up to the team USA committee to decide what three individuals would qualify for each team. 

Carol rolled her eyes and amended, “I’m going to the Olympics!” 

Steve laughed and raised his empty glass in a toast. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky, Sam, and Wanda heading back from the bar drinks in hand. “Here,” Bucky said handing Steve a fresh drink. 

“What is this?” 

“You’ll love it!” Bucky shouted back. 

Steve took a tentative sip and had to agree, he did love it. Bucky shot him a knowing grin and Carol snatched her drink from Sam’s hand and yelled, “You guys!”

“What?”

“We’re going to the Olympics!” This time, Steve cheered with the rest of them and drank half his drink in one go before Carol and Wanda were pulling on him to come out to the dance floor. 

“Nooo,” he whined, looking to Sam and Bucky for back up, but they were right behind him, herding the group toward the dance floor. 

It wasn’t that Steve hated dancing, he was perfectly happy to dance in the privacy of his own home where the only people that could judge him was his own reflection. He was too precise in his movements, he danced like he fought, moving like it was an attack, striking out when his opponent least suspected it. But the same was true for most of his friends, especially Bucky and Wanda. The difference being they fought like they danced, graceful and fluid. Steve could watch them do either all day. 

“Come on!” Wanda laughed at him, pulling his hip to hers. “Like this!” 

He let her guide him through the paces and when he was finally moving in a way that didn’t resemble an angry snake ready to take down its prey, she let him go and moved away to dance with Sam. 

“Oh baby, shake it!!” Steve heard from behind him. He turned to face Bucky and grinned. 

“You like that?” 

“Yeah! In fact,” Bucky stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor and gave an over exaggerated bow. Steve snorted at the display and when Bucky came back up he asked. “May I have this dance?” 

“Why, I thought you’d never ask,” Steve fluttered his lashes, hoping that even if Bucky didn’t hear him, he’d get the message. 

Bucky gave him a wicked grin before pulling him flush against him and grinding like a horny 8th grader at a middle school dance. 

“Bucky!” Steve laughed. 

“What? You don’t like the way I dance?” he pulled away and said, “What about this way?” Bucky turned around and bent over, shoving his ass into Steve’s groin and twerking in a horribly accurate imitation of Miley Cyrus. Steve laughed but played along, pretending to slap Bucky’s ass as he attempted to pop out a vertebrae through force. 

“You guys are gross!” Carol yelled at them, “Just dance like normal people!” 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, settling his hands on Bucky’s hips, and working him over with a slow, dirty grind. “Didn’t you want me to dance?” 

“Why did you say anything Carol?” Sam groaned. “Now they’re gonna be awful all night.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bucky replied before bending all the way over to touch his toes and wiggling. 

Wanda shook her head. “I need another drink.” 

“Excellent idea!” Sam agreed and suddenly it was just Steve and Bucky on the dance floor. 

Without their audience to entertain, Bucky pulled himself up and turned around to face Steve. “They didn’t last long.” 

“Cowards,” Steve agreed, already turning to head back to the bar, but Bucky’s hands on his waist stopped him. 

“Nope!” he shouted, “I still want my dance.” 

Steve whined, “Bucky,” but Bucky just shook his head and pressed Steve close, looking down on him with a dopey smile that caused Steve’s cheeks to warm. 

He let Bucky take the lead and tried his best to keep up, willing his body to relax in Bucky’s grip. 

But obviously it wasn’t working because Bucky shouted, “Hey!” and Steve’s gaze snapped up from where it had been boring holes into Bucky’s chest. “You’re thinking too much! Just look at me.” 

So Steve did and eventually, he forgot to be awkward and stiff and just moved with Bucky, their hips pressing together just on this side of indecent. As they danced Steve couldn’t help but think about how easy this was with Bucky, even when Wanda had tried to show him how to dance Steve was still too self-conscious to really let go. But here with Bucky, looking at him, Steve could let himself feel the beat in a way he hadn’t before, and his body just took over. 

It was absolutely pathetic, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care. Because Bucky was only looking at him, still with that dopey little smile and if Steve didn’t know any better, he might say Bucky felt the same way as he did. 

“You’re getting pretty good at that.” Bucky’s lips brushed against Steve’s ear and he shuddered. 

Before he could think better of it, Steve said, “Helps when you have the right partner.” 

Bucky pulled back and looked down at Steve with wide eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked from Steve’s eyes to his lips and Steve felt a bubble of hope well up inside of him. 

“Steve, I—” but Bucky didn’t finish, because suddenly he was groaning and pulling out his phone. Steve saw Pierce’s name flash on the screen. Steve’s hopes of what Bucky was about to say were pushed away and replaced with anticipation. This was _ the _ call. 

“Answer it!” Steve demanded. There were only two reasons Pierce would call him: if he got a spot or if he didn’t.

“But, Steve—”

“Bucky!” 

“All right, hold on,” Bucky answered the phone, “Hello? Sorry coach, one sec.” 

Bucky shot Steve an apologetic look over his shoulder as he headed through the crowd. Steve gave him a thumbs up before turning back to find their friends. By the time he got back, Bucky had texted the group letting them know he had to go meet with Pierce. 

“Bucky’s going to the Olympics!” Steve shouted just as his phone vibrated again. 

_ Can I call you when I’m done with pierce? I want to tell you about something  _ the text from Bucky read. 

_ Ofc  _ Steve typed back.  _ Good luck with Pierce!!!  _

Steve left off any well wishes not wanting to jinx anything. He tried not to think why Bucky said he wanted to tell him something when normally he’d just tell him. It had to be whatever Bucky was going to say before his phone rang. 

He thought he knew what Bucky was about to say, but what if that was just what Steve wanted to hear? What if it had been a trick of the light or the alcohol, making him think Bucky was looking at him the same way he was sure he was looking at Bucky? 

Or worse yet: what if Bucky did know how Steve felt and was trying to tell him that he didn’t feel the same. That he loved Steve, of course, he loved Steve, but not like  _ that _ . 

And then there would they be?

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. 

“You okay?” Sam shouted over the din. 

“Fine,” Steve replied with a smile he hoped looked more sincere than it felt. Clearly, it hadn’t because Sam was frowning. “Just the drinks,” Steve tried to clarify. 

Sam didn’t look completely convinced and whatever he saw in Steve Carol clearly did as well. He knew if he didn’t do something, she’d probably drag him to the bathroom for a conversation that he had no interest in having.

So instead, he raised his glass and plastered his cheesiest grin on his face and shouted, “We’re going to the Olympics!” The following commotion was almost enough to distract Steve from his thoughts about Bucky.

—

Steve was awakened by the incessant vibrations of his phone. He reached for it blindly and squinted at the screen barely processing Bucky’s name before he picked it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Stevie, did I wake ya?” 

Steve frowned. Even through the haze of sleep, Steve could tell something wasn’t quite right. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, and Steve was certain now something was wrong. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Listen I have something to tell you.” 

Steve  _ knew  _ it. Something was wrong and his brain snapped awake and suddenly he could hear a lot of commotion wherever Bucky was and someone over a loudspeaker announcing…a  _ flight _ ? “Bucky where are you?” Steve asked panic rising in his throat. “Are you okay?” 

He heard Bucky sigh and then chuckle. “Can never get one over on you, can I?” 

“Bucky, please.”

“Stevie, I don’t know how else to tell you this so I’ll just say it. I’m at the airport right now, about to get on a plane to Moscow. I’m going to be on Team Russia.” 

The panic Steve had felt before dropped out from his stomach replaced by confusion and nausea. “What?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person, but I just found out last night and they want me out there right away. But hey, we’re doing it, Stevie, we’re going to the Olympics!” 

The words should have been happy, but they were choked on melancholy. 

“I don’t understand, what do you mean you’re on Team Russia? You’re supposed to be on Team USA.” 

“But I’m not,” Bucky said softly. “I’m really sorry, Steve, but I have to go. I won’t see you until Tokyo. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

Bucky sounded near tears and Steve scrambled out of bed, ready to hail a cab down to JFK and get some answers out of Bucky himself if he had to. “Wait, Bucky! Please don’t hang up yet, just tell me what’s going on.”

There was a pause on the other line, and Steve knew Bucky hadn’t hung up just yet because he could still hear the mechanical voice announcing flights over the loudspeaker. 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Bucky replied. “I accepted a spot on Team Russia.” 

“ _ You _ chose this?” 

“Look, Steve, I really gotta go. I’ll text you when I land, okay?”

“Buck—”

“—I’ll miss you—”

“Buck!” 

“—see you in Tokyo.” 

“Bucky!” Steve shouted but the line went dead. 

Steve sat down heavily on his bed and stared at his phone for a moment. He tried to call Bucky back but it went straight to voicemail. Steve looked down at himself was realized he’d put on two different shoes, still had his pajama pants on and was shirtless, holding his wallet and his keys in his left hand. 

It was another few minutes before he slipped off his shoes and set his wallet and keys back onto his nightstand. 

He opened his phone and clicked on Carol’s name. 

“Hey, what’s up?” She greeted, chipper despite the early hour. 

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered into the phone. 

“Steve?”

“Bucky just called me. He’s going to Team Russia.”

“What!”

“He’s getting on the plane right now. I don’t know, I don’t know,” Steve moaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“Okay, hold on. I’m going to make some calls and I’ll be over soon, okay?” 

“Okay,” Steve nodded into the phone. 

“Alright hang tight, see you soon.” She hung up before Steve could say goodbye and once again he was left staring at his disconnected phone. 

Steve replayed the last five minutes in his head. Bucky had been at the airport and he had been upset. He sounded like he was about to cry. But why? Why would Bucky be crying about having to go to Russia? Did he really not make Team USA? How was that possible? Bucky was one of the best sabre fencers in the nation. Pierce wouldn’t have agreed to coach him if he didn’t think he was Olympic level. 

Why would Team Russia take him and not Team USA? If Russia was willing to fly him over to be a part of their team when they were ranked so much higher than the American team, he  _ had  _ to be good enough to be on Team USA. But then, Bucky had said he  _ chose _ Team Russia. Which meant he must have been offered a spot on Team USA and just…didn’t take it. 

Steve could understand wanting to be on a higher ranked team, really, he could, but why did Bucky sound so torn up about it? Why had he decided he didn’t want to go with Steve anymore? That had been the plan, it had always been the plan. They were going to go to the Olympics together and win gold, side by side. When had that changed? 

He found it hard to believe that Bucky would give up their dream for a higher chance to medal. Bucky wasn’t like that. 

Something wasn’t right and there was nothing Steve could do about it now, not with Bucky on a plane to Moscow. 

Steve needed to talk to his mom. He snatched his phone up and opened it again, his thumb hovering over the contact button for a moment before he remembered himself. 

There wouldn’t be anyone on the other line. 

Because she was gone and she wasn’t coming back. And now Bucky was gone, they were  _ both _ gone, and Steve was alone. His mom was dead and Bucky had left him for Russia and Steve was  _ alone _ . 

It was then that Steve finally was sick. 

—

“Walk me through this,” Sam asked again and Steve sighed before repeating exactly what Bucky had said to him on the phone. 

“I just don’t understand it,” Wanda said. “This isn’t like Bucky at all.” 

“I agree,” Carol interjected, “but we can’t ask him about it right now. But hey, Steve did you try calling Becca?” 

Steve shook his head. “No. I don’t know what I would say to her. How can I explain to her that Bucky should be on a lower ranked US team instead of the Russian team which is second in the world because we had a deal?” 

“More of a pact,” Sam amended and Steve shrugged. Pact made it  _ worse _ . 

“Yeah, that would be hard to explain,” Wanda agreed. 

“I just don’t know what to think,” Steve said. “I’ve known Bucky longer than I’ve known anything else, and I just can’t explain this. What could have possibly happened to make him go to Moscow? The last time he was in Russia was when we were fifteen and he  _ hated  _ it.”

“Maybe it’s like you said Steve, Russia is higher ranked.”

Steve shook his head. “No, Bucky’s not like that he’s never been like that. Unless…” 

“Unless what?” 

“Unless I don’t know him as well as I thought I did. Unless he’s been lying to me this whole time.” Steve’s fist hit the table and everyone jumped. 

“Steve…” Sam tried. 

“No!” Steve jumped out and began to pace. “Why else would he go, huh? What possible reason could he have to go to Russia other than wanting a better chance at winning? It doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t make any goddamn motherfucking sense! Why would he leave me?” Steve’s voice shifted into hysteria. “Why would he leave me!” 

The silence that followed his shout was broken by Carol’s phone ringing. She jerked trying to silence it, but then her eyes widened at the name. “It’s—”

“Answer it,” Wanda told her, shooting an apologetic look at Steve. 

“Hello?” Was the last thing Steve hear her say before she disappeared into Steve’s bedroom. 

Steve walked over to the couch and sagged into it. It was quiet for a few moments before he felt the couch dip on either side of him. 

“Steve, this may be hard to hear,” Wanda said quietly, while Steve steadfastly stared at his coffee table. “But I don’t think this decision was easy for Bucky, and I’m sure he thought about how it would affect you, but don’t think it had anything to do with you.” 

“I know,” Steve whispered. And he did know that but that was the problem, wasn’t it? Bucky had thought about what it would mean to Steve if he left and he’d  _ done it anyway _ . “I know, but I—this was all I had left,” he admittedly, finally breaking down. 

“No, it’s not, man.” Sam pulled Steve into his side while he cried. He felt Wanda wrap her arms around his other side. Steve let himself cry until and he heard his bedroom door open and Carol stepped out. 

He sat up quickly and wiped his eyes. “What did she say?” 

Carol walked over and pulled Steve up off the couch and into the tightest hug he’d been in since his mother’s funeral. “We did it,” she whispered. 

“What?” Steve pulled back and searched her face, and found tears in her eyes. 

“Steve, we fucking did it.” 

“You don’t mean that we both…?”

“Yeah, I fucking do.” 

Wanda and Sam were up the next moment and wrapping them both into a group hug. 

“I knew you could do it!” Wanda shouted as Steve continued to stare at Carol in disbelief. 

“Never had any doubts,” Sam agreed. 

“You’re serious?” Steve asked and Carol nodded. 

“Maria heard about Bucky she knew you’d probably be...well, anyway, the point is she thought I should tell you.” 

“I don’t know if I’m breathing right now,” Steve admitted, his mind still trying to make sense of the words that Carol was saying. “We’re going to the Olympics?”

Carol gave him a soft smile and nodded. “Yeah, Steve, we’re going to the Olympics.” Steve threw himself back into her arms and the tears that swept over him were bittersweet. “We did it,” Carol kept murmuring and hear her crying, too. 

They’d done it. 

Finally, finally,  _ finally _ . 

He was going to the Olympics. 

But with that pride came the grief. His mother gone, Erskine gone, and Bucky...they were all supposed to be here, too. This wasn’t right. What was the point if not to show them he’d done it? 

Still, he reminded himself, his mom and Erskine were looking down on him. He’d done right by them. 

“We did it,” Steve repeated, the tears showing no sign of stopping. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He pulled Sam and Wanda into his arms, so they were all hugging each other. 

He pushed Bucky and his mother and Erskine out of his mind and held on to his friends tighter. 

—

Steve moved into the Team USA facility in Colorado a week after the teams were announced. He put in his notice at his job and found someone to sublet the apartment, with Sam running point while he was away. He was joined by Carol and Wanda who had been chosen for rhythmic gymnastics. 

Fencing being a niche sport as it was the teams were kept small, three competitors to make up a team for each style, which one individual. Peter Parker and Scott Lang made up Steve’s team, while Loki Odinson was chosen as the individual. Steve was regarded as their lead, something that the head coach, Thaddeus Ross, seemed to take issue with, but never directly said anything about. There was the other familiar, yet terrifying face of Nick Fury. Steve also saw Brock Rumlow skulking around the facility, acting smug as ever. 

“Heard your little boyfriend got sent packing to Russia,” Brock had sniped at him one day, two nameless lugs hovering over his shoulder and shooting Steve the same smirks. “You must be lonely without him.”

“You mean hand picked for the second highest ranked team in the world?” Steve bit back. “I wonder, would  _ you _ still be here if he hadn’t  _ chosen _ to go?” 

Brock had darkened at that and stormed off, muttering curses as he went, the two lackeys hot on his heels. 

The whole interaction left a bad taste in his mouth. Partly because he still didn’t understand why it wasn’t Bucky with him and partly because Brock was right -- he  _ was  _ lonely. 

With Coach Ross breathing down his neck, Coach Fury giving him the eye, and every other minute he was constantly running drills; he’d gone through three inhalers in a month.The doctors tried to warn his coaches that they could be pushing Steve too hard with the cardio but Steve refused any special treatment. If his team was running laps, he was running laps. 

So with all that during the months leading up to the Olympics, there never seemed to be time to talk with Bucky. In addition to that, anytime he tried to call Bucky it went unanswered. Steve didn’t miss the fact that Bucky never tried to call him. 

He sent dozens of text messages, begging for Bucky to explain what happened. He  _ knew _ he had been offered a spot on Team USA because Ross had told him so. So, why would he turn it down? But anytime he asked something like that, Bucky wouldn’t respond. 

Eventually, Steve stopped calling. Eventually he stopped texting. 

On the rare occasions he was let out to socialize with other members of Team USA, his friends spent most of the time sending him pitying looks and each other worried glances. 

Steve was at a loss of what to do. It was clear Bucky wanted to be left alone, so that’s what Steve decided he would do if that’s what Bucky really wanted. 

He lasted until the day before he was meant to fly out to Tokyo. He sent Bucky a text that said  _ I miss you  _

When Steve woke up the next morning to catch his plane there was a new text on his phone. 

_ I miss you too _

—

“The toilet is fucking incredible!” Carol shouted running out of the bathroom. “It sings while you pee so people can’t hear you!” 

Steve looked up from his text to Sam letting them know they had landed and raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.” 

Wanda came up beside her and said, “It also opened and closed on its own.”

“Okay, that is actually really cool.” 

“Isn’t it? Man, I  _ love  _ Japan.” 

“Sam is definitely gonna like it here,” Steve agreed, shouldering his bag as they were hustled forward towards customs and immigration. He tried not to pay attention to the other people in the airport as they snapped pictures of the large group decked out in their official Team USA tracksuit. They must have made a sight, seeing as three-quarters of the 500 some-odd athletes that made up Team USA had been packed onto the flight to Narita from LAX. 

“You think all the other teams are already at the village?” He asked, hoping it wasn’t obvious he was thinking of Bucky. 

She tilted her head towards another gate. “There’s France, so I’d say no.” 

“I assume it would be the Japanese team to move in first, no?” Wanda said, craning her neck to see ahead. “Shit, I have to go. My coach is calling me. See you guys later!” 

“Bye!” Carol called, as Wanda disappeared into the crowd. 

They walked in silence until they finally reached the immigration line. Steve double checked that he had filled out his landing card correctly while an organizer came around to do a headcount. 

“What are you going to say to him?” Carol asked without preamble. 

Steve froze only for a moment before he continued fussing with his passport. “I don’t know.”

“You could try, hey why the fuck have you been ignoring me for the past few months. Or a good sucker punch, those always seem to get the point across.”

Steve sighed. “I’m not going to punch him.” At Carol’s expression he added, “Probably.” 

“He deserves it.” 

“That he does,” Steve agreed facing forward. 

—

As the unofficial captain of his team, Steve took it upon himself to room with Loki Odinson and let Peter and Scott share a room. 

Odinson walked into their quarters and snorted. “I should have known.” He eyed the bed with disdain. “How am I even meant to fit on this?” 

Steve rolled his eyes and headed for the bed nearest the window. “They extend.” He threw his bag onto the bed. 

“Ah, I believe it would be better if I took that bed,” Odinson said just as Steve sat down. 

Steve gave him a sweet smile and a hard look and said, “Then come take it.” 

Odinson gaped at him, while Steve continued to grin up at him, refusing to budge. Finally, Odinson huffed and stormed out of the room, muttering to himself as he went. Steve was sure to spread his stuff around his side of the room before hurrying out in search of anyone who had information on Team Russia’s whereabouts. 

“Where are you going, Steve?” Peter called as Steve opened the door. “We’re supposed to have a team meeting at four before we head to the welcome dinner.” 

Steve glanced at his phone and found it was already 3:45. He’d have to be quick, but he could do it. “I’ll be back before then!” Steve shouted before rushing out the apartment. 

He spied the Russian dorms on his way to his own, but they were unfortunately on the other side of the village. If he ran, he could probably make it. 

Steve had just rounded the corner in front of Russian dorms, out of breath and more than a little sweaty, because fuck if Tokyo wasn’t humid as hell, when he saw the doors open and a sea of people spill out. 

The Russian team. 

Steve lurched forward, on unsteady feet, and was instantly clocked by the some of the Russians, who shot him suspicious looks. 

Steve ignored them and scanned their faces, looking for dark hair, steel blue eyes, and a sharp mouth. 

He found them, just stepping through the threshold of the building, turned towards a tall man with a shaved head and scrunched up in laughter. Whatever sixth sense Steve had that could lead him to Bucky, Bucky must have the same, because he had barely made it through the door when his eyes were on Steve’s and he was breaking away from the group. 

“Buck?”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky chided when he was close enough. “What the fuck Steve, where is your inhaler? What are you doing over here?” 

“What am I—?” Steve started. “Are you serious? That’s all you have to say?” 

Bucky sighed and took hold of Steve’s shoulders. “Sorry, I am glad to see you.” 

Steve wanted to hug him, to ask what was going on, but the hands on his shoulders were firm and Bucky’s gaze kept flicking to his teammates as they passed. Someone, a small redhead Steve saw, shouted something at him and Bucky yelled back before turning back to Steve. 

“Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I have to go. I’ll come find you at the welcome dinner tonight, okay?” 

Bucky’s gaze was earnest and Steve had no reason not to trust him, but still he asked, “Promise?” 

Something like hurt passed over Bucky’s face, but he gave Steve a soft smile and said, “Promise.”

—

True to his word Bucky did find Steve at the welcome dinner, after what seemed like hundreds of speeches and several traditional performances that promised to be a taste of what was to come for the opening ceremony. 

Just as the dinner was winding down, and people were heading back to their dorms or to roam the streets of Tokyo, Bucky appeared at Steve’s side. 

“Walk with me?” Bucky asked, tilting his head towards the exit. 

“Of course,” Steve said his goodbyes to the people at his table and followed Bucky out. Even with the crowd of people swirling around them, the air between them felt cold and isolating. 

“I’m sorry I never got a chance to call,” Bucky said, looking at the ground. “The Russian coaches are a lot more strict than I thought they would be.” 

“Worse than Pierce?” 

Bucky stiffened but quickly shook it off. “Nah, not as bad as him,” he said softly. 

“Bucky—” Steve started, but Bucky cut him off. 

“I know you’ve got questions, and I promise we’re gonna talk about it, okay? But I can’t right now, I’m sorry.” And the thing was Bucky really did look sorry. “Like I said the Russian coaches are really strict, and we’re really not allowed out without their permission and they don’t give that all too often. If we’re not training, we should be sleeping or thinking about training.” 

Steve frowned. “We can’t even hang out around the campus?” 

Bucky shook his head. “Can’t fraternize with the enemy and all that.” 

“We don’t even compete in the same style!” 

“I know.” 

“But we were supposed to be in this together!” Steve whispered harshly, throat constricting with emotion. “We were supposed to be together.” 

Bucky stopped and for the first time looked Steve in the eye. “I’m sorry it had to be this way. Really.” 

“If you were so sorry why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” Steve demanded. 

“I will, Stevie, I promise, but you gotta trust me right now, okay? Please.” 

Everything in Steve told him to push harder, to get the truth out of Bucky one way or the other, but at the look of desperation on Bucky’s face, the fight left Steve. Whatever was going on with Bucky, Steve didn’t want to be one to add to it. So he sighed and looked at his feet, muttering, “Okay, Buck, I trust you.” 

Without warning, Steve was pulled into a firm hug which he immediately returned. “Thank you, Steve,” Bucky whispered. “And I don’t think I said this before, but I am so fucking proud of you. I knew you could do it.” 

Before Steve could process what was happening, Bucky was gone calling a goodbye over his shoulder and falling into step with the redhead Steve had seen earlier. 

—

Now that they were at the Olympics Coach Ross thought it was a good idea to cut back on their training some, as he thought the less the other teams saw, the better. While Steve thought it was a little more than paranoid, he was grateful for the extra time off. 

It meant that he could explore Tokyo a little more, and after Sam landed a few days after all the competitors had, the two of them, sometimes with Wanda and Carol in tow took the streets eating food from stalls and taking touristy photos. He was pretty sure he saw Carol tear up when they saw the statue of Hachiko at Shibuya. Wanda was delighted at all the shops they found in Harajuku, and Sam didn’t care where they went as long as there was good food. 

Steve found himself drawn to the shrines and temples, loving how the history behind them, but also how some could be truly bizarre. They all got a kick out of Gotokuji, a temple filled with small statues of cats. 

Through it all, it felt like something was missing. Steve constantly found himself turning to point something out to Bucky, before correcting himself. No one dared to bring it up, expect Carol. 

“Something isn’t right,” Carol insisted over their curry. 

Steve picked up a bottle of sauce and poured some on his spoon. 

—

The izakaya was just starting to get busy when they were ushered to a long table. There were some curious glances from salary men and even a few brave shouts of “Hello!” Steve even heard an “I love you!” coming from what appeared to be a group of college students. They busted into giggles and turned even redder when Carol yelled, “I love you, too.” 

The server handed them the menu and ran through some memorized speech in rapid Japnese, pointing at something on the table. At their blank looks she tried again, and in halting English explained that whenever they wanted to order something to press the button the table and that there was no split checks. 

“It’s weird that they don’t really know English,” Sam commented as he opened the menu which thankfully had pictures and some generally accurate English descriptions. 

“Why should they speak English?” Wanda demanded, “We’re in  _ their _ country.”

“Woah, I get that,” Sam said, holding up a placating hand. “I just meant because didn’t the Olympic committee specifically recommend this place as a good place to come? Why would they tell y’all to come here if they couldn’t accommodate us?”

“Well, Torikizoku is a chain, I’m sure they couldn’t just kick out all the non-English speakers for the sake of the games,” Steve pointed out. 

“Of course,” Sam agreed. “But it’s more than that, y’know? It’s like when I asked for directions at the train station earlier no one could help me. And the thing is, I  _ know _ that they learn English in school. My cousin lived in Hiroshima for two years teaching English in a junior high school. I’m not saying that I expect everyone I meet to speak perfect English. I’m just saying that for a country that was so determined to host  _ the _ international event, it doesn’t seem as well thought out as it should.” 

Carol set her menu down and motioned for Sam to continue. Sam sighed, without taking his eyes away from his own menu, he went on. 

“Don’t get me wrong Japan is great. I love it here, and definitely want to come back to visit. But I mean as far as I can tell, there hasn’t been a whole lot of effort into making visitors feel welcome. I understand it’s our choice to come here, but again they put in a bid to host the Olympics here. Why offer that if they were unwilling to accept any cultural differences?” 

“We did get a lot of literature about the do’s and don’ts of Japan,” Carol admitted. 

“They’ve all been perfectly friendly,” Wanda insisted. 

“I’m not saying they’ve been rude, I’m just saying for me that I don’t feel welcome. I feel allowed, but not welcome,” Sam replied. 

“Meaning?”

“You’re a pretty, young white girl. I’m a black man.”

Wanda looked confused for a split second before her cheeks heated up as Sam’s words sink in. 

“Did something happen to you?” Steve demanded.

“Do we need to go to the police?” Carol added. 

“Nah, guys chill,” Sam told them, finally setting his menu down. “It’s just little things. Like women crossing the street when they see me coming. People moving seats when I sit down next to them on the train. Little kids yelling stuff at me and running away, but I mean who knows what they’re saying? They try to not make it obvious that they’re afraid of me, but they  _ are _ . I get it. They see American movies and how black people are portrayed. But it’s still shitty.” 

No one said anything for a long time, until Wanda reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand. “I’m sorry that that happens to you. I’m sorry that I reacted the way I did.” 

Sam gave her one of his signature gapped tooth smiles, but it was a little sad. “Thank you.” 

“Alright, let’s get some fucking drinks,” Carol annouced, breaking the tension, and they all laughed. 

They each took turns in pressing the button that summoned the server, giggling each time they did so. They tried something new each time they ordered and Steve was already feeling more than a little tipsy by the time the fourth round was set down in front of him. 

“Ooooh,” Carol crowed picking up her phone. “Remember that guy I was telling you about? The archer?” 

“The guys that calls himself Hawkeye?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, that one. He’s in the area and he’s gonna come join us with some friends.” 

“Is he bringing that Val girl you keep talking about?” 

Carol didn’t look the least bit ashamed as she answered, “I sure fucking hope so. He says two friends, so here’s hoping!” 

They all shove down and call the server back over, explaining the new development. She tells them it’s no problem and goes off to find more small plates and chopsticks. 

Steve was taking a sip of his highball when the newcomers showed up. “Clint!” Carol shouts and then she stopped short. Everyone looked up and had the exact same reaction. Because there behind Clint was a short fierce looking redhead and next to her was Bucky.

“Hey y’all,” Clint said, sliding into the booth, clearly unable to read the atmosphere. But the redhead can because she stayed where she was, eyeing them all cautiously. 

But Steve’s focus is on Bucky. From the set of his shoulders to the furrowing of his brow, Steve could tell all Bucky wanted to do was run, but he didn’t move, seemingly frozen to the spot. 

Clint must have finally sensed the tension because he looked back and forth between the sitting and standing group. “Do you guys know each other?” 

“You could say that,” Wanda hissed, glaring at Bucky. 

“Hey you guys,” Bucky tried weakly. 

“Hey?” Sam repeated, eyebrows near his hairline. 

Carol said nothing, her mouth set in a thin line as she glowered at Bucky. Steve simply blinked before sliding over in the booth. “Are you gonna sit down?” He asked turning back to his drink.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Bucky started. 

Steve took a big gulp of his drink before turning back to face Bucky. “I thought you said you weren’t allowed out at night?” 

“We aren’t normally,” the redhead said, a Russian accent tinting her words.

“Just a special occasion then?” Steve said, eyes never leaving Bucky’s. “You would think that for such a special occasion, you might want to spend it with your friends. Your  _ best _ friends.” 

Bucky’s eyes flicked around the group before returning back to Steve’s. He opened his mouth but the redhead cut in before he can say anything. 

“I think I might be getting tired,” she said. Then she turned to Bucky and said something in Russian. 

Steve turned back to his drink, refusing to watch whatever was going on between the two. But when he heard Bucky say, “I’m gonna walk her back.” He couldn’t stop the wave of disappointment. But Carol came to his rescue. 

“Of course,” she spat. “What a gentleman!”

“Carol,” Bucky tried, but the redhead cut him off. 

“He is, isn’t he? Always thinking of others.” Her gaze landed on Steve. “Never puts himself first.” 

Steve had never seen Carol so  _ livid _ . “I’m sorry, who the fuck  _ are _ you?” 

“Yasha’s friend,” the redhead replied. “A good friend.” She said all this while never taking her eyes off of Steve. 

Bucky said something to her in Russian, but she kept her gaze trained on Steve as if waiting for something to slot into place and when it finally did he threw his head back and laughed

“Steve?” Sam looked bewildered, while Bucky took an aborted half-step toward him. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve chuckled, wiping at the tears that gathered in his eyes. “It’s just don’t you see?” 

“See what?” 

“They’re fucking.” He waved his arm at Bucky and the redhead. 

“They  _ are _ ?” Clint’s eyes bulged a little. 

“They’re fucking and now she thinks he  _ knows  _ him.” 

“Steve,” Bucky snapped, and Steve didn’t miss that it was the first time Bucky spoke directly to him.

“No, no, I get it,” Steve said, standing up from the booth. “You finally got to, what was it she said? Put yourself first.” He swayed a little on his feet and Sam was up in an instant to steady him. “It makes sense doesn’t it? I mean why else would he leave the way he did? Why else couldn’t he find the time to text any of us back? We were holding him back. No—” he looked to the redhead. “ _ I’m  _ holding him back, aren’t I?” 

“Not everything is about you,” she said with an arched brow. “Maybe you finally learn that.” 

“It’s not like that,” Bucky finally cut in, before switching to Russian and arguing with the redhead. 

“Isn’t it?” Steve asked, interrupting them. “I had  _ one _ fucking thing left Bucky. One. I had fucking this,” he threw his arms out at the group of them. After everything, seeing Bucky and this woman together breaks something inside of Steve, something bitter and ugly that he’s been holding on to for far too long. 

“And you took it from me. Goddamnit, you wouldn’t even  _ be _ here if I hadn’t started fencing. The first sport I could fucking do and you pick it up like it’s  _ nothing _ and you  _ promised _ me then you just fucking leave? after—after—” Steve stopped, choking on the next words, knowing his mother wouldn’t want to be brought into this. He set his jaw and squared his chest against Bucky and finishes, “And for what? A better ranking team and to get your dick wet.” 

He was a little drunk and his glasses were smudged to hell, plus the redhead must be a superhero because he absolutely did not see it coming when her hand darted out, grabbed Steve’s abandoned drink on the table and threw it in his face. 

“Natalia enough!” Bucky barked and when Steve could see again he noted that both their chests were heaving, the readhead- _ Natalia _ , looked like she realized she went a little too far. “Steve, I’m sorry, really I know--”

“Shut up, Bucky,” Steve growled. “Just shut the fuck up. You’ve both made your point. You want to be left alone that bad? Fine. Done.” 

“Please, I can explain,” Bucky said, stepping around Natasha, and grabbing for Steve’s shoulders. Steve shrugged out his grip and suddenly Sam was in front of him, arms across his chest. “Sam,” Bucky pleaded. 

“I don’t know what more there is to say,” Sam replied. “Wanda, you mind taking care of the bill? Me and Steve are gonna head out, and you two are gonna get out of our way.” 

Natalia stepped back, pointedly looking at the ground. 

“Steve,” Bucky tried again, gazing at him over Sam’s shoulder. 

“Is everything okay?” The server asked, appearing out of thin air, looking warily between the group.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Wanda cut in. “I’m just going to pay.”

“This way, please.” The server shot them one last nervous glance, but lead Wanda away. 

“Well this has been super fun,” Carol sang, “But we have to go.” Clint stumbled out of the booth in his haste to let her out. 

“Barnes.” Sam nodded and Steve slipped around him and headed for the door. He heard Carol tut and say something curse laden to Bucky but he couldn’t make it out between the ringing of his ears and the stinging of his eyes. 

“Steve?” Sam asked softly when they were outside in the humid night air, Steve’s wet shirt instantly sticking to him. 

Steve shook his head. “Let’s go to your hotel.” Sam lead the way and pulled out his phone, no doubt telling Wanda and Carol of their whereabouts. Steve felt his own phone vibrate and pulled it out to see that finally,  _ finally _ Bucky is calling him. 

He hit ignore before turning the phone off completely. 

—

Bucky tried to call once more. He sent Steve one text, apologizing and asking if they could talk. 

Steve ignored both. 

—

On the day of his first match Steve got another text from Bucky which read:  _ I’ve crossed the finish line, I’ve done everything that I’ve done _

Steve didn’t have it in himself to ignore that, so he tapped out a reply:  _ and now waiting for me is gold at the end of the line. _

And then to the quiet of the bathroom, he whispered, “Till the end of the line.” 

—

When it was announced that Steve was heading to the medal match, Steve looked for Bucky in the stands, but came up empty. 

He tried not to let that hurt. They had never been allowed to see each other compete before. Why would it be different now? 

When it was announced that Bucky was heading to the medal match, Steve cried from the shadows of the bleachers. 

—

It was strange walking into the arena without Carol and Maria at his side, and instead Peter Parker, Scott Lang, Loki Odinson, and Coach Ross. Even though he and Bucky hadn’t competed in the same arena in years, he still felt his loss. 

He knew Carol and Maria were probably both in the crowd somewhere, maybe with Sam and Wanda, as women’s fencing were competing the next day, as well as Bucky. 

Steve shoved his headphones in and queued up Taylor Swift playlist. He was well aware he didn’t look like the type, but the bubble gummy music helped him clear his mind and got his endorphins going. He was halfway through his second listen of Shake it Off when Ross was pulling him up with a glare. 

“Don’t fuck this up,” Ross hissed before grabbing his phone out of his hands and pushing Steve forward.

Steve’s gear had never felt so heavy as he made his way to the strip. He wasn’t sure how he got his gear on but the next thing he knew he was on the strip facing the contender from Bulgaria and in the en garde position. 

A whistle was blown and Steve advanced, hitting a beat onto Bulgaria's blade. Bulgaria took a quick defensive step back, taken off guard at Steve’s aggressive opening and Steve was able to lunge, securing the first point. 

The crowd cheered as Steve raised his fist in the air at the first victory. They regrouped and the match started again. Bulgaria wasn’t taking his chances with Steve this time and engaged immediately. Bulgaria secured the second point. 

They went back and forth for a bit until Bulgaria started to pull ahead. When Bulgaria had landed his 10th hit, Steve was beginning to worry. The clock showed a little under a minute left. 

Ross stalked over to Steve and grabbed him by the shoulders. “What the fuck is happening out there?” 

Steve shook his head, barely able to answer, he started to reply but Ross cut him off. “We did not come here to lose,  _ Captain _ , you got that?” 

Steve nodded weakly and Ross stalked away. Bulgaria was still conversing with his coach, so Steve was left to hang his head in shame. 

“Steve!” Steve’s head shot up at the shout of his name and he saw Carol pushing through the throngs of people on the strip floor, a dark head not far behind her. 

“Steve!” Carol shouted again when she got through the crowd. Ross made to stop her, but she waved him off as if he was no more than a fly. When Ross caught sight of Bucky right behind her, he stiffened, before turning on his heel to yell something at Peter Parker. 

Carol hugged him so tightly, he thought he heard something crack. “Steve you’re doing so great, you can’t give up now,” she said. 

“I’m not giving up,” Steve protested, but even as he said the words he felt their falsity. The more hits Bulgaria had landed, the more Steve had let him. 

“You can do this, Steve, I promise,” Carol told him, making sure he looked her in the eye. “But even if you don’t you have to  _ try _ . You understand? You can do this all day.” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, eternally grateful the universe had conspired to put Carol Danvers into his life. “I can do this all day.” 

“There he is,” Carol smirked, grabbing him around the shoulders and ruffling his hair. The referee blew a whistle to signal the restart of the match, looking at Steve. “Fuck,” Carol hissed then pulled Bucky, who’d been hanging back, right in front of Steve. “Say it,” she demanded. 

Bucky reached out and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, his face earnest and brow pinched with nerves. Even with everything that had happened Steve wanted to reach up and smooth it out. 

“I’ve crossed the finish line, I’ve done everything that I’ve done,” Bucky began. 

Steve immediately picked up, “and now waiting for me is gold at the end of the line.”

“Till the end of the line?” Bucky’s face was more worried than he’d ever seen it. 

“Till the end of the line,” Steve promised. Bucky gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled as Carol dragged him away. 

Steve stepped back up on the piste with renewed energy. When the match started back up Bulgaria didn’t see anything coming. By the time there was 25 seconds left on the clock, they were tied. 

“For Erskine,” Steve whispered to himself before the final match started. “For Ma,” he said louder as he lunged right after the whistle was blown. 

Bulgaria quickly parried, and they both recovered before Bulgaria attacked, and Steve parried back, but not before realizing Bulgaria had stepped too far. Steve saw his opening, and made for a riposte, attacking Bulgaria as he tried to stabilize himself, but it was too late. Steve’s hit landed. The piste lit up green on Steve’s side and the crowd lit up with it. 

“Match, Steve Rogers of the United States of America,” the announcement came loud and clear into Steve’s buzzing head. 

“Congratulations,” Bulgaria said, taking his hand and shaking it. 

“I won?” Steve said numbly, looking out into the sea of people, chest heaving. 

Carol and Bucky were pushing back through the crowd, their faces happy and shining. 

“I knew you could do it!” Carol yelled hugging him and jumping up and down. 

“I did it?” Steve repeated again.

“You really did it,” Bucky said, taking Steve into his arms. “Stevie, I’m so proud of you.” 

And Steve wanted to be mad still, he wanted to shove Bucky away and demand answers about the last few months, but instead, he melted into Bucky’s touch and began to cry, the pain and stress and euphoria of everything finally overwhelming him. 

“I know your ma is real proud of you, too,” Bucky murmured and Steve sobbed harder, clinging to Bucky as he finally let everything from the past few years go. 

Before he could fully register what was happening, Steve was pulled from Bucky’s arms and made to stand on the podium, a gold medal around his neck. The Star Spangled Banner blasted through the arena and there were people cheering. Steve saw his friends in the crowd and smiled, letting himself feel a little proud. 

When the ceremony was over he stepped down from the podium, shaking that hands of the silver medalist from Uruguay and the Bronze from China and then he was in front of a few reporters, Coach Ross appearing out of nowhere at his side. 

“We’re incredibly proud of Steve,” Ross told the reporters. “It was definitely a group effort. We owe our success to the top coaches that Team USA has to offer, as well as the support of the organization.” 

Steve resisted the urge to glare at Ross and instead turned straight to the camera closest to him. “I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for my first coach, Coach Abraham Erskine. He was the first person who believed in me and fought for my place on a team. Without him, and of course my current coach, Maria Hill, I’d never had made it this far. But mostly it was my ma, I’m sorry she couldn’t be here to see it but-” Steve paused and glanced up to the rafters, holding up the gold medal around his neck. “This is for you, Ma.” 

He answered a few more questions and then was passed from hand to hand until he was once again surrounded by his friends. And even Bucky’s parents and sister were there. Bucky’s mother cried as she hugged him and told him how proud she was of him, Steve found himself crying, too. 

When Steve was composed enough, Bucky’s dad pulled him in for a hug and then Becca. They were made to pose for pictures, and Steve promised to come for dinner with them later. 

As soon as Bucky’s parents were gone, the waves of euphoria started to wear off, an awkwardness settled over the group of friends. 

Sam looked uneasy and Carol ready to fight but Bucky stepped up. “I know I owe you guys an explanation.” 

“Damn straight,” Carol spat and Sam looked wholly unimpressed. 

“But I really need to talk to Steve about it first.” 

Sam seemed to see the merit in that, because he softened a bit before he nodded. Unexpectedly, Bucky pulled them both into a hug and Steve heard him say, “Thank you for taking care of him.” 

Carol was so stunned she didn’t say anything as Bucky lead Steve away. But not before she managed to grab Steve’s wrist. “Be careful,” she told him and Steve felt such a surge of affection for her that he pulled her into his arms. 

“I will,” he replied, giving them all a small smile and a wave as Bucky lead him out of the arena with an arm draped across his shoulder. 

“Can we go somewhere private?” Bucky asked, once they were outside. 

“I can kick Odinson out of our room, but I doubt he’s there anyway.” 

Bucky kept his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they walked back to the dorm, periodically squeezing Steve’s shoulder. 

They made it all the way back to Steve’s room before either of them spoke. Steve locked the door behind him and turned to Bucky with a mulish expression. 

“Well?” he prompted when Bucky didn’t seem like he was going to say anything. 

Bucky sighed and lead Steve over to the bed. How he knew which one was Steve’s, Steve would never know. 

He sat down, but didn’t let go of Steve’s hand. “I’m sorry I left you,” Bucky admitted. “I didn’t want to, really, but I...” Bucky gnashed his teeth in frustration before hanging his head in his hands. 

“Buck?”

Bucky looked up and gave Steve a small smile. “Is there any way you can just trust me on this, and wait for an explanation later?” 

“Why?” 

“Because we should be celebrating,” Bucky replied. “And this is not a celebratory conversation.” 

Steve had to agree with that so he nodded. “So what should we be doing to celebrate then?”

Bucky raised their hands towards him, his intention clear, giving Steve time to pull back. But when Steve didn’t he placed a gentle kiss on the back of Steve’s hand. A question Steve wasn’t sure how to answer. 

“Bucky?” Steve choked out. 

Bucky didn’t reply, but when Steve didn’t pull away he turned his hand over and kisses the inside of his wrist. Steve took a small step forward and Bucky tugged him down so Steve had no choice but to sit straddling Bucky’s lap. 

“Steve,” Bucky breathed and it was a question and plea and a prayer and Steve isn’t anyone to deny it, so he leaned forward and closed this distance between them. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Bucky said when they broke apart. “I tried to that night but then…”

“Told me?” 

“That I love you.”

Steve felt like the breath was knocked out of him. “What?” 

“I love you, Steve,” Bucky repeated. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I remember when I first realized what love was, what it truly was, and you know what my first thought was?”

“What was it?” Steve breathed. 

“First thing I thought was, that’s how I feel about you.” 

Steve fell forward, pressing his lips against Bucky’s and murmured, “I love you, too.”

Steve felt Bucky’s hands move beneath him, cupping his ass and pulling them even closer. Steve took Bucky’s face in his own and deepened the kiss. Without thinking, he began to grind down on Bucky, who let out sweet little groans into Steve’s mouth. 

“Can we…?” Bucky asked, a dazed look in his eyes after they’d been kissing long enough for Steve to become more than half way hard. 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, “Yeah, whatever, anything, Bucky please.” 

“What do you want, Stevie?” Bucky asked, ducking his head to press a kiss to his collarbone. “Tell me, what you want and I’ll give it to you.” 

Steve let his head fall back as Bucky sucked a mark into his skin. A hundred fantasies came rushing back, each more tempting than the rest, but as Bucky scraped his teeth over the bruise the only thing that Steve wanted was to be  _ closer _ . 

“Can you fuck me?” Steve asked. 

Bucky jerked back, eyes wide as his pupils. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Bucky surged forward, kissing Steve roughly before he was unceremoniously plopped onto the bed. 

“Bucky?” 

“Hold on!” Bucky called over his shoulder, heading for the door and tripping on his shoe in his haste, “I gotta get-” He was gone before he could finish his sentence and Steve sat there stunned at the turn of events. He picked up his found to text Bucky but realized Bucky’s phone was on the bed too. 

Steve was half off the bed when the door flew open and Bucky appeared face flushed, breathing hard, brandishing a handful of condoms. “Condoms!” Bucky announced simply. 

Steve stared at the fistful of condoms and then back to Bucky’s red face and burst into laughter. “Eager?” 

“You have no idea,” Bucky said without an ounce of shame, stepping fully into the room, and kicking the door shut behind him. Bucky tossed the condoms onto the bed and crawled up it, to press kisses into Steve’s neck. He pulled back abruptly and Steve would have been worried if he didn’t immediately ask, “You have lube, right?” 

Steve chuckled and pulled Bucky down to kiss him on the lips. “Yeah, I got lube.” 

“Oh, good, because otherwise this was gonna get real awkward.” 

“How so?” Steve asked, tugging at Bucky’s shirt. 

“I would have knocked on doors until I found some,” Bucky admitted, letting Steve remove his shirt before divulging Steve’s of his. 

“They didn’t have some with the condoms?” Bucky shook his head, eyes trained on Steve’s hands that were reaching for the button on Bucky’s jeans. “We should write a letter.” 

“We should,” Bucky replied absently, as Steve undid the button. Slowly, Steve pulled the zipper down, watching intently for Bucky’s reaction. “Steve!” he whined, once he realized Steve must have been fucking with him. 

Steve laughed and pulled Bucky’s jeans down so they pooled around his knees. His eyes widened when he saw the outline of Bucky’s dick through his boxer briefs. 

“Jesus, fuck, how big  _ are _ you?” 

Bucky smirked and grabbed a handful of himself. “Why don’t you come find out?” 

“I’m going to ignore how terrible that was because I really do want to find out.” 

Bucky laughed as Steve yanked down his underwear and his cock fell forward. “I always knew you were a size queen.” 

Steve wanted to defend himself, but he was too busy staring at Bucky’s half hard cock. It was long enough that it gave Steve pause about putting it inside of him and had to be as thick as Steve’s admittedly delicate wrist, but it was still impressive. The head was flushed red, shifting down to a pretty pink blush on the rapidly hardening shaft. 

He reached out, to touch, but stopped to look at Bucky first. Bucky nodded and Steve took the cock in his hand, the weight of it warm and generous. He stroked it a few times before pushing up on his elbows, jostling Bucky. 

“Lay down,” he instructed.

“Why?” Bucky asked, but moving into position anyway. 

“I’m gonna suck your dick, that okay with you?” 

Bucky choked and Steve grinned smugly down at him. “By all means.” 

Steve pulled the rest of Bucky’s clothes off and tossed them to the ground before dipping his head over Bucky’s cock and giving the tip teasing little licks and kisses. 

“It’s okay if you use a little teeth,” Bucky said almost shyly. 

“Ooh, you like it when it hurts, baby?” Steve sang. 

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky grumbled, face going red. 

Steve laughed put pressed a soft kiss on Bucky’s hip to let him know he was more than okay with whatever Bucky wanted, before moving back to his cock. Without warning he sucked the head into his mouth, causing Bucky to jolt and jerk his hips up. 

“Sorry!” Bucky cried when Steve pulled away spluttering. 

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed. “I like it when it hurts a little, too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In fact, once a get used to deep throating this fat dick of yours,” he said, wrapping his hand around the base. “You can fuck my mouth.” He licked a stripe up the side, never breaking eye contact with Bucky. 

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned as Steve swirled his tongue around the head. He sucked at the head with a tentative reverence. “You keep doing that, I won’t make it.”

Steve pulled off for long enough to say. “What if you just came on my face?” 

“Jesus, fuck, Steve,” Bucky all but shouted. “Are you trying to get me to blow my load early?” 

“Maybe,” Steve admitted, dipping his head back down to tease Bucky’s slit with the tip of his tongue. He flicked his gaze up again before swallowing down as much as Bucky’s dick as he could. He bobbed his head up and down a few times, letting his teeth gently graze the head. 

It wasn’t long before Bucky was reaching down and pulling Steve off. “You gotta stop, baby.” 

Steve heaved a put upon sigh but obliged when Bucky pulled him up to kiss him again. As they kissed Steve’s hand found the lube that had been tossed aside and he pressed it into Bucky’s hand. 

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” Steve whispered when they broke apart. 

“Stevie,” Bucky groaned before pulling him back into the kiss. The next thing Steve knew he was flipped onto his back and his pants were halfway across the room. “You start it, baby, I wanna see you,” Bucky told him between kisses. 

Steve took the lube back and uncapped it, squirting a good amount into his hand. Bucky watched enraptured as Steve spread his legs and circled his hole with slick fingers before pushing in. 

“So fucking pretty,” Bucky murmured and Steve smiled a little shy up at him. Bucky leaned forward and grabbed the condom. “Keep going,” he instructed, tearing open the condom and putting it on, the whole time his gaze on Steve. 

Once the condom was on, Bucky leaned up and kissed Steve again, taking the lube with him. They were still kissing when Steve’s hand was knocked away and replaced by Bucky’s fingers. 

Steve’s own hand had felt nice, but knowing that it was now Bucky’s inside of him was almost too much. Steve squirmed on the fingers wanting more and to get away in equal measure. When Bucky pulled his finger out to tease at the rim, the pleasure settled and all Steve wanted was more. 

“Fuck, that feels so fucking good, Bucky,” Steve moaned as Bucky worked him open. “Put another in.” 

“You’re a little bossy, aren’t you?” Bucky commented but did as he was told. 

Steve grinned up at him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.” 

Bucky grinned right back, curling his fingers inside of Steve, causing him to cry out. “You’re right, I do.” 

It wasn’t long before Bucky’s fingers weren’t enough and Steve was trying in vain to fuck himself onto Bucky’s fist. 

“Buck,” he pleaded. “Get your stupidly big dick in me.” 

“I don’t know if you’re ready for it yet, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured and Steve’s heart felt like it might burst from the tenderness in Bucky’s voice. 

“C’mon, I want to feel you.” 

That must have been enough for Bucky because he groaned before removing his fingers and replacing them with his already prepped cock. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be.”

“Steve,” Bucky warned. 

“Okay, I will. Promise.” Steve lifted his legs and wrapped them around Bucky’s hips in encouragement. 

When he felt Bucky’s head at his entrance, he let out a sharp gasp at the thickness of it and something between the two of them shifted. Bucky pushed in slowly, checking in with Steve and calling him sweetheart, and telling him how well he taking it the whole while. 

Steve clung to Bucky as he bottomed out, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes and not just from the stretch. 

They gazed at each other for a long moment, only sound the heavy breaths they took between them before Bucky leaned down and kissed Steve with a passion he thought only existed in trashy romance novels. Steve returned the kiss just as frenzied, tangling his hands in Bucky’s hair and pulling him ever closer. 

Bucky began to move just like that, barely breaking apart to breathe. His thrusts were long and deep and it didn’t take too much time before their kisses turned to little more than sharing the same air. 

“I’m close,” Steve said in a hushed, hurt little voice. 

“Good,” Bucky replied, then reached between them taking Steve’s cock in his hand and stroking it just as slow and steady as the rolling of his hips. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. I want to see you when you come.” 

Steve hadn’t noticed his eyes falling shut, but he opened them at Bucky’s request. He was surprised to see that Bucky was just as wrecked as he was. 

“I love you,” Bucky whispered and Steve felt the heat that had been gathering up from his toes and roil in his abdomen burst forward. Steve had had more orgasms in his life than he could count but none as good as this one. 

“Beautiful,” he heard Bucky say somewhere through his haze of pleasure and reached up to cup Bucky’s cheek. 

“Now you,” he said softly. “I want to see you, too.” 

“Whatever you want, baby.” Bucky ducked his head and kissed him sweetly, never breaking his rhythm. It wasn’t much longer that his hips stuttered and he fell forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck. “Stevie,” he moaned. 

They took a moment to catch their breaths before Bucky was pulling out and Steve was whimpering at the loss. Bucky placed a kiss on his chest before getting off the bed. Steve heard the sounds of the condom being dropped into the trash can and then the water being turned on. 

Bucky appeared moments later with a wet towel. Steve reached out to take the cloth, but Bucky shook his head and smiled softly at him, before reaching over the clean Steve up himself. 

The action made Steve want to cry and Bucky was barely finished before Steve was pulling him back down and curling into his side. It was a position Steve had been in a thousand times before, albeit clothed, but he couldn’t help but marvel at how different this felt. 

“I love you,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s collarbone. 

Bucky squeezed him tighter and dropped a kiss onto his head. “I love you, too.” 

Steve pulled the covers up and over them before drifting off to sleep. 

—

When Steve woke up he felt someone watching him, and as soon as he realized it was Bucky he couldn’t help but smile. He turned over to face him fully and whispered, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Bucky replied, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Steve’s lips. Steve relished in it for a few heartbeats, before pulling away. As much as he wanted to enjoy the moment he couldn’t help but think about what was still between them. 

“Bucky, are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Steve finally asked. 

Bucky sighed and rolled onto his back, but not before taking Steve’s hand in his. “Please, promise me you won’t get mad.”

“I promise I’ll try not to. That’s the best you’re gonna get out of me,” Steve replied, making Bucky snort. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” Bucky playing with their fingers for a few moments and Steve was beginning to wonder if Bucky was ever going to say something when he finally spoke. “I made the U.S. team, but I’m guessing you already knew that.” Steve nodded and Bucky continued. “That night, when we were at the club, Pierce called me and told me to come meet him, so he could give me the news in person. So I went, and he told me how I’d been offered a spot on both teams, the U.S. and Russia. Then he started going on about how I owed so much to him, how I’d be nowhere without him, and that I needed to pay my dues or else I’d be out.”

Steve had a sinking feeling where the story was headed next when Bucky took a fortifying breath. 

“I was sitting in a chair and he came over and shoved me to the ground and started to undo his pants.”

“Bucky,” Steve whispered. “Bucky did he hurt you?” 

Bucky shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and Steve could see tears gathering in the creases. “No,” he breathed. “But he almost did. I just froze, Steve if you hadn’t texted me at that exact moment I don’t know what would have happened. I punched him in the dick and got the hell outta there.” 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky, I’m so sorry, sorry,” Steve murmured, pulling Bucky to his chest, where he felt the tension leak from his shoulders and Bucky began to cry. Steve felt a rage like he’d never known boil up inside of him, he felt so hot he began to shake, as if he were suffering from the cold. “I’m not gonna let him get away with this, I promise.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” Bucky snuffled. “I knew if I did you’d do something and then you’d you ruin your chances to be here and I couldn’t do that Steve, I couldn’t get in the way of your dream like that.” 

And then Steve was crying too, overcome with fury that Bucky had been in the situation in the first place, with guilt about how angry he’d been with Bucky these past few months, with a bittersweet sort of joy that Bucky had been worried about  _ him _ , but mainly with sorrow about the whole affair. 

“That’s why we can’t tell anyone.”

“Why the fuck not?” 

“What if they take your medal? It’s not like it hasn’t been done before!” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Stevie,” Bucky pleaded, eyes wide and desperate, “I couldn’t stand it if they took your medal after you worked so hard.”

“What about you!” Steve exploded. “Bucky, none of this matters, okay? This stupid fucking medal is  _ nothing. _ You’re the most important thing to me.” 

“But you  _ always _ said you wanted us to go to the Olympics together. That you wanted to make your ma proud.” 

Steve shook his head so hard, he shook Bucky a little, too. “You’re right, but the important part was that we were going to do it together, Buck. My ma’s not here anymore, but  _ you _ are. And I think she’d be plenty proud of both of us.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. So if they try to take my medal, I’ll gladly hand it back if that means that you get an ounce of justice.” Steve took Bucky’s face in his hands. “I’d never fence again if it meant you were safe.” 

Bucky buried his face into Steve’s chest and whispered, “Thank you.”

Epilogue 

When the sentence was announced, Carol stood up and whooped. Normally Sam or Wanda would have reeled her in, but even they were busy cheering along with her. Bucky immediately turned to his mother and hugged her, his father and his sister gathered around him, and Steve was pulled into the group hug as they all cried. 

As Pierce was lead away people began to come around and tell Bucky how brave he was and congratulate him on his win. His parents were able to turn most of the well wishers away, and when the courtroom was half empty that Steve spotted a familiar head of red hair. 

“Bucky?” Steve tilted his chin towards Natalia that was now heading their way. 

“Yasha,” she greeted. 

Bucky hugged her tightly, and the pair began to speak in Russian before his parents joined in. 

Steve wanted to be mad, but something from the look on Natalia’s face stopped him. Without warning, Wanda appeared at his side and leaned in to speak in low tones to him. 

“I didn’t realize it was her at first,” Wanda started. “But after that night, I told my brother about her and he remembered. A few years ago she was accused of trying to sleep with her coach in order to make the national team. But that wasn’t what it was it all.” 

“What was it?” 

“Her coach was very abusive, verbally and sometimes physically. In Russia he was seen as the best, so no one dared to complain about him. Until her.” 

The pieces were falling into place, but still, Steve asked. “Why?” 

“Hard to say if she was the first or not, but she reported him for sexual misconduct.” 

“Did he…?”

“I don’t know. But I do know, no one would work with her for years. The Tokyo qualifiers were the first time she competed since she was 16.”

“How old is she now?” 

“26.” 

Steve nodded, a bitter sense of regret filling him as he fully realized the situation. Finally, Bucky and Natalia turned to him.

“Steve? I’d like you to meet someone,” Bucky said, and Steve hated how nervous he was. 

Natalia stepped forward. “Natasha Romanoff,” she said, without a hint of the accent she had just eight months prior. 

“Natasha?” Steve repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

She shrugged. “I figured since I’d be staying in America for a while, it’d be good to have an American name.”

“You’re staying here?” 

“For now,” she said with a smirk and started for the exit. 

They pushed out of the large wooden doors of the courthouse, Bucky’s parents offering to speak to the press so Bucky could slip out with the group. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand as the down the side steps of the courthouse. Steve gave it a tight squeeze before leaning over and pecking Bucky on the check. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Steve told him. “You were so brave.” 

Bucky shook his head. “It needed to be done.” 

“But still, you were brave for standing up to him,” Carol cut in. “It had to be hard.”

“Don’t diminish that,” Sam agreed. 

Bucky ducked his head but managed to say, “Thanks, you guys. I’m sorry that I didn’t handle it as well as I should have in the beginning.”

Wanda took his hand. “Don’t say that. You were processing.” 

“You stopped him from doing it to anyone else,” Natasha said decisively. 

“It’s enough,” Steve agreed, and Bucky smiled at him. Steve smiled back, and thought, this too was enough. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
You can find the author [here](http://bangyababy.tumblr.com).  
You can find the artist [here](https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Also, if you're 18+ interested in joining a more inclusive/positive stucky space, please hit up bangya for a link to a new discord :)


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